Shopaholic Takes Manhattan (Shopaholic #2)

Shopaholic Takes Manhattan (Shopaholic #2) Page 106

“Good luck!” says Suze. “Except you know, there is no luck in business. There’s only drive, determination, and more drive.”

“OK,” I say dubiously. “I’ll try to remember that.”

The address I’ve been given for Lorenzo’s is a street in Soho — and as I turn into it, I can’t see anything that looks obviously like a restaurant. It’s mostly just office blocks, with a few little newsagenty-type shops, and a coffee shop, and a…

Hang on. I stop still and stare at the sign above the coffee shop. “Lorenzo’s coffee shop and sandwich bar.”

But surely… this can’t be where we’re meeting?

“Becky!” My head jerks up, and I see Zelda walking along the street toward me, in jeans and a Puffa. “You found it all right!”

“Yes,” I say, trying not to look discomfited. “Yes, I found it.”

“You don’t mind just a quick sandwich, do you?” she says, sweeping me inside. “It’s just that this place is quite convenient for me.”

“No! I mean… a sandwich would be great!”

“Good! I recommend the Italian chicken!” She eyes me up and down. “You look very smart. Off somewhere nice?”

I stare at her, feeling a pang of mortification. I can’t admit I dressed up specially to see her.

“Erm… yes.” I clear my throat. “A… a meeting I’ve got later.”

“Oh well, I won’t keep you long. Just a little proposition we wanted to put to you.” She shoots me a quick smile. “We thought it would be nicer to do it face to face.”

This isn’t exactly what I imagined for our power lunch. But as I watch the sandwich guy smoothing Italian chicken onto our bread, adding salad, and slicing each sandwich into four quarters, I start to feel more positive. OK, maybe this isn’t a grand place with tablecloths and champagne. Maybe they aren’t pushing the boat out. But then, that’s probably good! It shows they still think of me as part of the team, doesn’t it? Someone to have a relaxed sandwich with, and thrash out ideas for the forthcoming season.

Maybe they want to take me on board as a features consultant. Or train me to become a producer!

“We all felt for you dreadfully, Becky,” says Zelda as we make our way to a tiny wooden table, balancing our trays of sandwiches and drinks. “How are things going? Have you got a job lined up in New York?”

“Um… not exactly,” I say, and take a sip of my mineral water. “That’s all kind of… on hold.” I see her eyes watching me appraisingly, and quickly add, “But I’ve been considering lots of offers. You know — various projects, and… and ideas in development…”

“Oh good! I’m so glad. We all felt very bad that you had to go. And I want you to know, it wasn’t my decision.” She puts her hand on mine briefly, then removes it to take a bite of her sandwich. “So now — to business.” She takes a sip of tea, and I feel my stomach flutter with nerves. “You remember our producer, Barry?”

“Of course I do!” I say, slightly taken aback. Are they expecting me to have forgotten the name of the producer already?

“Well, he’s come up with quite an interesting idea.” Zelda beams at me, and I beam back. “He thinks the Morning Coffee viewers would be really interested to hear about your… little problem.”

“Right,” I say, feeling my smile freeze on my face. “Well, it’s… it’s not really a—”

“And he thought perhaps you would be ideal to take part in a discussion and/or phone-in on the subject.” She takes a sip of tea. “What do you think?”

I stare at her in confusion.

“Are you talking about going back to my regular slot?”

“Oh no! I mean, we could hardly have you giving financial advice, could we?” She gives a little laugh. “No, this would be more of a one-off, topical piece. ‘How shopping wrecked my life.’ That kind of thing.” She takes a bite of sandwich. “And ideally, it would be quite a… how can I put this? An emotional piece. Maybe you could bare your soul a little. Talk about your parents, how this has ruined their lives too… problems in your childhood… relationship trouble… these are just ideas, obviously!” She looks up. “And you know, if you were able to cry…”

“To… to cry?” I echo disbelievingly.

“It’s not compulsory. By any means.” Zelda leans earnestly forward. “We want this to be a good experience for you too, Becky. We want to help. So we’d have Clare Edwards in the studio too, to offer you advice…”